Part Deux

So Monday morning I come downstairs, after sleeping off the headache from Christmas day, to find my grandpa gagging into the kitchen sink. Grandma and Don were standing there watching, and Don kept saying, "I told you! Go to the emergency room!"

See, Grandpa has this thing where, once in a while, he gets food stuck in his throat for a couple of hours. He usually can get it out, though. But at this moment, he'd had it since the previous day. As he said, "I don't know if it's turkey or a piece o' hog." Meaning ham, in Grandpa speak.

So I spent my last day of vacation in the emergency room in Rice Lake. Gramps had a minor procedure performed, which consisted of a tube being stuck down his throat and dislodging the offending morsel. Grams and I waited about 2 hours, her snoozing off and on, me growing more annoyed by the second at Soccer Moms. I don't even know if they were Soccer Moms, but they fit the profile. And by profile, I mean they thought the universe revolved around their children. "Can we hurry this up? My children are getting hungry." Listen, lady, it was 11:30 when you came in. Your son only has a sore throat. You think you could have fed your other kids before you came here? Other people have actual emergencies. Hence the name of the room. Bee-yotch.

So the doc finally came out and bellowed, "Yup, there was turkey stuck in his throat!" I giggled nervously, glancing around the room. We were then told of Grandpa's narrowed esophagus and how he should make an appointment to have it stretched. For the rest of the day, Grandma repeated, "You have to learn to chew your food better." Then Gramps repeating, "It ain't got nothin' to do with chewing! It's my 'sophagus!"

Oh, and Gramps told his nurse that she could put her shoes under his bed anyday. And no, he wasn't that drugged up.

I worked Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday was my day off, and I planned to do some extra work at the CH library so that I could get some holiday pay. But Gramps made an appointment to have the surgery on his throat, which means I had to drive him home. So we were on the road by 6:30 to make his 8:30 appt. in Hayward. I waited in the lobby while Grams went with Gramps to his room. Around 10:30 Grams came in by me. I started to get up, thinking he was out of surgery, awake, etc. Oh, no. They were just now taking him into surgery. Apparently there were two emergency operations the doc had to perform first. Not that anyone bothered to tell me the whole time I was waiting. Then we waited almost another 2 hours before a nurse came and got us.

So I drove home, Gramps telling me how to drive the whole time. *deep sigh* Then I got a quick lunch and went to work at CH. Need that holiday pay, ya know.

In other news:
~Cara went back to Texas on Tuesday afternoon.
~Kristen's not coming to my house for New Year's after all, so I'll be parking my ass at my mom's playing board games and drinking cheap wine coolers and being generally bitter about my single status.
~I've been listening to my Michael Buble cd nonstop. So hot.
~My uncle Brad got me the complete season of The Oblongs, which I'd never heard of. It's a deformed cartoon family who live in toxic waste. Watched two episodes last night. Very funny. Will Ferrell is the voice of the dad, Bob, who doesn't have arms or legs but is awfully cheery.
~Nikki got me the first season of Ghost Hunters for Christmas, so I'm going to let the family join in on my obsession. Steve...*drool*

Christmas vacation. Part 1

I went to the Packers game in Green Bay, WI on Christmas day. There were more than 69,700 fans in the stadium that day. It was crazy.

But, to begin, my Uncle Don and I were on the road at 9 a.m. Before we left the house, I'd asked my pink magic love 8 ball if a cute boy was going to flirt with me that day. It flashed me the "Yes!" sign, so I was happy as a little schoolgirl. Anyway, we were going to the game with Don's cousin LuAnn and her husband, David. They only live about 35 miles from Green Bay and had given us the free tickets. We arrived at their house between 12:30 and 1 p.m. Game time was 4:00. We had a quick meal of scrambled eggs and ham while waiting for David to get up from his nap. Apparently he needs a nap after church (he's a pastor). Then he finally got up, and they putzed and putzed before we could finally leave.

Now, call me crazy, but it stands to reason that if you're putting your life in someone's hands, i.e. in a car, that person should be able to see. Apparently David doesn't see well, yet there he was, behind the wheel, mildly cursing like only a Lutheran pastor can. He complained about all the traffic, he whined about the parking, he moaned about finding the right street, he muttered about the walk to the stadium.

Since he refused to pay much for parking, we ended up walking about 7 city blocks to the stadium. Not a bad walk, but it's off of Lake Michigan, which equals chilly.

After a gauntlet of drunken tailgaters, a mob of people scrambling to chug beer before it was confiscated, and a brief patting down to search for weapons and/or prohibited snacks and alcohol, we finally got inside the stadium itself. And were promptly rewarded with free Santa hats with a Packers logo on the front. I stuffed mine into my stadium blanket. We squeezed our way through the crowds and into our seats. Without exaggeration, I'd say within 5 minutes of sitting down, the game started. That's how freaking late we were because of the putz twins.

Now, LuAnn was very nice, a little ditsy perhaps, but sweet. Her husband... Well. Let's just continue with the day's events, shall we?

The weather was pretty darn nice for a winter's evening. The first half of the game I was gloveless and kept my jacket unzipped (cuz I'm saucy like that). It started to gently snow about 2 minutes before halftime, then quickly faded away to nothing. The second half of the game, I began to feel the effects of Bears vs. Packers fans. The woman behind me was a die-hard Chicago fan. And she was drunk. She kept screaming, "Wooooo!! Come on, Bearrsssssss!" I'll wait while you imitate her yourself. Don't forget to draw out the 's' on Bears. Go ahead.

Right. Try it? Annoying as hell, isn't it? Now imagine that Drunky Magee was screaming that every 3 minutes into your ear. Yes, a headache was born. Plus we'd had very little to eat all day, so I kept feeling more and more sick.

After the disappointing loss (but not wholly unexpected; Favre sucks), we briefly stopped in the gift shop, where I bought myself a Lambeau Field souvenir, a shot glass with "Curly's Pub" written on it. I collect shot glasses. But that's a different story. Then we marched all the way back to the car, bombarded by Bears fans shouting "In your face!" in our faces, and Packers fans chanting "The Bears still suck! The Bears still suck!"

There were quite a few restaurants open, but David didn't stop at any of them. He just kept driving, and any time LuAnn pointed out a place to stop, he'd act like it was too late to stop there. So by the time we were out of any traffic, we into parts of town that weren't open. LuAnn would tell him to stop and he'd say, "It's Christmas day, LuAnn. Everything's closed. What do you want me to do, LuAnn?" He spoke to her like she was a naughty 4-year old, and he said her name the same way you'd call someone a liar. And the worse my headache got, the harder it was for me not to punch him in his stupid head, pastor or not.

Anyway, Don drive us the rest of the way home. I mostly slept because I knew the alternative was puking. We arrived around 1:30 a.m. and broke out the Christmas dinner leftovers that everyone else had enjoyed at home.

I went up to bed and noticed my magic love 8 ball sitting where I'd left it. I glared at it and called it a stinking liar.

We both know you've got the worst reflexes of all time.

Someone found my page last night by searching the phrase "Ryan Reynolds shirtless." I aim to please. :)

Cara gave me my Christmas presents last night. She'd bought two old New Kids on the Block tapes and a T-shirt with an afroed karate man. The probably takes the cake for craziest presents I've ever received. So this morning while getting reading for work, I rocked out to "She's My Popsicle." It was hilarious. And a bit sad...cuz I knew most of the words.

Anyway, Cara finally got to see Napoleon Dynamite last night. I made her watch it. I knew she'd like it, but like I've previously stated, at my mom's house is the worst place in the world to watch a movie. We had Aaron annoying Nikki up at the table, and Mom telling him to knock it off. Then Tyler kept chasing Jersey around, and she was laughing hysterically (which was just cute). And every time there was music on the movie, Jersey would start dancing and then Tyler would, too. Except he stood right in front of the TV and wouldn't move. I had to rewind Napoleon's dance scene twice so Cara could actually see it.

And, in case anyone missed seeing SNL last Saturday, there was the funniest video ever. Chris Parnell and newbie Andy Samberg did a music video for the Chronicles of Narnia video. If you didn't watch it, here's a link for the video. Please enjoy. http://www.youtube.com/?v=zLElfJ9YCh0

'Twas beauty that killed the beast.

Cara made the trip up from Texas. Last night she and I, along with her step-sister Kelly and Cara's son, Tyler, all went to see King Kong. When we got to the theater, Cara jumped out of the car to run and get tickets for all of us while we parked. We soon followed her in the theater (after Kelly thought she locked her keys in the car). As Cara gave us each our tickets, I heard a sudden bongo-type drumming. Yup. You guessed it. It was LOGAN up at the counter. I knew he was like, trying to pretend that he didn't see me and was just non-chalantly practicing for his air band, but you can't fool this gal. Cuz I pretended like I didn't see him, either, which led to him yelling, "Hey, April!" Even when I'm a bitch, people don't get it. So I was nice this time. I mean, he's never actually done anything to me, even if Sharon hates him. (Sorry, Sharon.) So we chit-chatted, while Cara's yelling, "April, what kinda chocolate you want?" I fake laughed, like, "What is this chocolate you speak of, woman?" I'm pretty sure I fooled everyone...er... And later when Cara came back from getting napkins, she goes, "That guy was in the hallway. I think he was looking for you." But Cara also likes to say things that aren't true, which is why she's a pathological liar and I'll have to give her a stern talking to.

Anyway. King Kong. Very long movie, 3 hours. Excellent special effects. Jack Black was brilliant, very funny in an understated sort of way. Some parts were super gross, and people were literally shuddering and gagging in the audience. One academic fellow behind us said, "Really, now, that's just over the top." I laughed. And the title of this blog was Jack Black's final line, and although he delivered it well, I can't take him seriously. So even though it's supposed to be sad, I started snickering, which made Cara start laughing, too.

Tyler was a little friggin' terror, of course. Kept bouncing in his seat, spilling popcorn, talking loud, had to go to the bathroom twice (well, it was a long movie), and randomly said stupid things. What a 5-year old. :) As Kong walked away in one scene, Tyler yelled out, "I can see his butt!" Which made the teenagers behind us crack up. Not so much the old couple in front of us, though.

I didn't really get a chance to visit much with Cara, though. Just in the car to and from the theater. I had to sit in the backseat with Terror...I mean Tyler, who kept sticking his head in my armpit and telling knock-knock jokes. "Knock, knock." "Who's there?" "Chicken." "Chicken who?" "Pot pie." *laughs hysterically* "Knock, knock." "Who's there?" "Snowman." "Snowman who?" "Sunshine." *laughs hysterically*

On Saturday afternoon, Nikki and I went shopping for hooouuurrsss.... It was a lot of fun, though. She's so much more grown up than either my brother or sister. And I made her laugh a lot, which is really what I live for. She bought Jersey the cutest pair of hot pink jogging shoes. So stinkin' adorable!! We had dinner at Culver's. I asked her a question just as she took a huge bite of her food. She made a face at me, like Hold on... I pointed at her and said snottily, "Now!" So she started laughing. Then she chewed for like a billion years, and just as she was about to finish, I sighed really heavily, like I was pissed off, which made her laugh even more. :D And in case you were wondering, yes, we did have dessert. Strawberry shakes. Mmm... And if Nikki told you that the straw got stuck to my lip because I had to suck so hard to get the strawberries through, well, she's a damn liar.

Annoyed

Yesterday was my day off. I went to Rice Lake to have lunch with Sharon. For those of you who don't know her, she was my fellow proofreader at the newspaper, once upon a time. After I left that position, I was replaced by a dumb but very cute boy, Logan.

Anyway. Sharon and I ate at Applebee's. So good. Haven't been there in forever. But for some reason their front entryway always smells like a farm and I have to hold my breath. As we were driving there, Sharon was complaining about Logan. She doesn't like him, mainly because he thinks he knows everything. She goes, "You don't still have a crush on him, do you?" I laughed and said no. In a surly voice I'd never heard before, she goes, "Well, good!"

So afterwards we went shopping in the mall. The mall in Rice Lake sucks a lot. I mainly shop in Bath and Body Works. I purchased some holiday goodies there, including a bottle of pink sparkly nail polish that I didn't realize until later was $9! Yikes. When we left, I told Sharon I'd like to look around in Sam Goody's for a cd. We start to walk over when I stopped suddenly. Logan was working there! We couldn't believe it. (Because he not only works at the newspaper but also the movie theater, too.) So we go in, avoiding him and fending off four different associates who asked if we needed any help, and I found what I was looking for. Then Logan appears.
Logan: Hey, how's it going?
Me and Sharon: Hi. Fine.
Me: What the heck, you're everywhere.
Logan: (smiles) Yeah.
Me: *somewhat snarling* So, do you have like 5 jobs, or what?
Logan: No. Just three.
(pause)
Logan: So, are you looking for anything specific?
Me: *annoyed* Yeah. And I found it.
Logan: Oh. Okay. Well. Just come and find me. If you need anything.

I don't know why I'm a bitch sometimes. It's like....I just can't help it.

Sharon and I also went to Payless Shoes, where I bought a pair of ugly/cute shoes for only $2, and then on to Kmart. Of course, they only had one check out, which was backed up, so I went to the service desk to check out. The guy there was the slowest person ever. It took probably 7 minutes or so to ring up like 8 items. Then he slurred his words and I thought he said my total was $25 even. And it was actually $25.81. But he put my check into the check reader crooked, which jammed it, so he had to ask for my driver's license #, which is on the freaking check. Then it jammed again and he had to call someone over to help him. And all the while, he never smiled, just kept looking at what was going on around me, going as slow as humanly possible. I wanted to snap my fingers in his face and tell him to fucking pay attention. Ugh.

This morning. Was. Crap.

Okay, I've lived with my grandparents for how many years? And it still surprises them every morning that I'm a grumpy mo-fo who doesn't want to talk? Yet they still try. It's not even like it's regular conversation. It's asking me questions like I'm a 4-year old. Don't believe me? Here's a snippet:
I'm rummaging around in the cupboards trying to find something to take to work for lunch, minding my own business.
Gramps: What are you looking for?
Me: (silence)
Gramps: Why don't you have some cereal? There's some cornflakes on the counter.
Me: (silence)
Gramps: What are you looking for??
Me: (grabbing a can of soup) I'm looking for something for lunch!
Gramps: Well why don't you have some cereal?
Me: I don't want any.
(I prepare the soup and put it in a ziplock container, then put the bowl, a spoon, and napkin all in a plastic bag.)
Grandpa: Don't forget a spoon.
(5 minutes later)
Grandma: What's in the bag?
Me: Soup for lunch.
Grandma: Did you put a cover on it?
Me: *sigh* Yes.
Grandma: Did you dilute the soup first?
Me: *sigh* Yes.
Grandma: Did you put a spoon in there?
Me: *sigh* Yes.
(She feels around the bag.)
Grandma: *panicked* I don't feel a spoon in there!
Me: *head falls back, my eyes close* It's on top of the container!
Grandma: Oh. Okay, sweetheart. I just want to make sure.
(I head for the door.)
Grandma: Did you get crackers?

And so on.

At work, checking in books that have been returned by courier, I find a book called The Greatest Lover in All of England. The cover had a bare-chested man with flowing black hair and red tights. I laughed. A lot. Then I turned to the inside page where there was a passage from the book. For fun, I started to read the passage.
"Sir Anthony," she began.
He pressed his finger to her lips. "Call me Tony."
"Sonofabitch," I growled, flipping the book away.

Random'd!

On a Christmas card that came in the mail yesterday:
Merry Christmas, Palmer and Lorraine.
Me: Hey! What about me? What am I, chopped liver?
Grams: Well, they probably didn't know you live here.
Me: Yes, they do! I've been here 4 years!
(pause)
Me: Four years! No! Why, God, why?!
Grams and Gramps both stare at me.
Me: Uh, I mean, it's been great.

The other morning I was having a dream that I worked at a magazine, and some chick kept trying to tell me what to do. She had just finished giving me an order when my alarm clock went off. I stumbled over to my desk to shut off the beeping. Still annoyed by dream chick, I sleepily mumbled, "Don't try and give me an assignment. Bitchface." Then I went back to sleep.

Yesterday afternoon as I was preparing to leave for work, my grandpa stopped me to tell me about something he was going to purchase.
Gramps: It's a solution for the carbuerator.
Me: Uh-huh.
Gramps: Not the carbuerator...the engine...and it's a solution...that you put in, you see....
Me: Spit it out, Gramps.
Gramps: (continues to ramble on semi-coherently, then finally pauses and looks at me as if expecting a response.)
Me: I zoned out like 5 minutes ago.
Gramps: I know you did, but we talk so seldom that I gotta make it last.

At work, I was shelving some books when I heard a loud growling/roaring behind me. I looked over and saw a guy, a regular, stretching. He's a big, big guy.
Guy: Oh, that's better. I cracked my back.
Me: Oh.
Guy: My back always hurts. Even though I'm only 24.
Me: Oh.
Guy: But I suppose it doesn't help that I'm 380 pounds.
Me: Er. Probably not.
I despise small talk.

Last night in the grocery story, I was trying to squeeze past a fat couple who were taking up the whole freaking aisle. The man asked the woman something, and she sighed in exasperation.
Woman: I need to buy tater tots and mushrooms!
Man: (dramatically) Oh, boy.
The words "oh, boy" were said in such a manner that, if spoken on tv, they would have been followed by a comical "wah-wah-waaaahhh."

My mom sent a fake Christmas card to Aaron and his girlfriend, Nikki (yes, I spelled her name correctly this time), who both live in my mother's house. She put the card inside a bag, then tied the bag to the dog and sent the dog upstairs. In the card was written, "Merry Christmas. Final eviction notice. Have a happy new year...somewhere else. This ain't no bed and breakfast, bitches."

Jerzorama!

Here are a couple pictures I took of Jersey at Halloween. Isn't she adorable in that bumblee costume? I love the pic on the right. She looks so dang proud of herself.











Totally my niece. She headed straight for the chocolate. Good girl, Jerz.











Here she is in her pretty purple dress, sitting so nice for the camera. I think she may enjoy the spotlight.













She likes feet. I don't know why.














Sorry the pictures are in a strange order. This thing just doesn't want to work very well for me. Anyway, we took Jersey to get her picture taken with Santa on Thursday. I can't post the professional ones (copyright law, ya know), but my mom took pics with her camera, too. I'll see what I can do about that. :)

Ghost Hunter

His name is Steve Gonsalves. And I have the biggest crush ever on him.

He's on the show Ghost Hunters as part of an organization called The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS). I've watched this show since the beginning, mainly because I've always been interested in the paranormal. I've had too many strange experiences to not be a believer.

This group, TAPS, investigates cases by request. They don't go in with some so-called medium who "senses" a presence. They go in with quality equipment and try to debunk claims of hauntings. Most of their cases can be explained logically, scientifically. But sometimes they do experience the paranormal. And that was why I got addicted to the show, their commitment to being real.

But then the more I watched the show, the more I started liking this guy, Steve. See, normally, I'd be frightened by the tattoos. I'd look at someone like him and think he was too tough for me. But through the magic and wonderment of television, I've gotten to see more than just the body art. Take a look at his picture again. Hot, right? But perhaps a little intimidating. Now, what if I told you that he's afraid of spiders? And heights? And flying? Does he seem more approachable now?

Okay, plus, he's a police officer. He's my age. And he had founded his own paranormal investigation group before he joined TAPS. Now I know he's more than someone who likes tattoos. He's smart, he's brave (fighting the unknown and common criminals!), and he's not a macho, tough guy.

Can you see why I have this massive crush on him? So before, I could have dismissed him as scary, if I didn't pay attention to the details. But now that I know more about him and am completely infatuated with him, I can see he's out of my league.

In conclusion, Steve: hot. Me: not. *sigh*

Loosey goosey, baby.

Okay, onto some lighter material.

I just rented a few movies for the weekend. Madagascar (it was okay, kinda cute), Sky High (really cute movie), and Land of the Dead. I only watched the first half of that one. I had a headache and went home (I was at Mom's). I bought a previously viewed DVD, The Amityville Horror. Because Ryan Reynolds is shirtless.

Mom and I went shopping Saturday after I finished work. That was pretty fun. It was nice to hang out as just the two of us. And then Sunday afternoon, Manda, Lil Jerz, and Nicky (Aaron's g/f) came shopping with me. We went to Wal-Mart. I know, I feel ashamed, but it's only during the Christmas season that I will shop there. My budget is tight. Nicky and I went into the mall to go to Bath and Body Works, too. I had a coupon to use, and damn it, I used it! :) Anyway, I'm pretty much done with shopping.

I also told Nicky all my ghost stories. She got really freaked out, so now she probably won't ever want to hang out with me again. :D

My Uncle Don was asked by another relative if he wanted 2 free Packers tickets. Which is a no-brainer since he's, like, obsessed with the Packers. The only thing is he had to choose between tickets on Christmas Day or New Year's Day. Anyway, my brother asked me yesterday who Don was taking to the game. Aaron wants to go since he's also a Packers fanatic. I didn't know, but Aaron is already going to a Vikings game soon. Then my uncle came to my grandparents' last night and stayed over. In fact, he got there like 2 seconds after I was done wrapping his presents (which are awesome! A blue fleece pullover {no, it's a cardigan, but thanks for noticing!} and a blue Fantastic Four T-shirt). I told him he'd gotten there too late to sneak a peek. Well, I think he felt bad that I got him presents, cuz this morning (early! Hello, still in bed here!) he came into my room and asked if I wanted to go to the game with him. I said yes cuz I've never been to a pro football game. So I'm excited! I don't know which game we'll be going to, but it will either be against the Chicago Bears or the Seattle Seahawks.

Um... I just listened to a 30-minute lecture from a retired Vietnam vet who looks like Mad Eye Moody. He had a hook hand, false eye, and forehead plate. He quizzed me on Vietnam. I did a lot of shrugging. He regaled me with hospital stories. He named off "famous" Barron County vets. He told me dirty Ole and Lena jokes. I thought he'd never leave.

Losing my religion

I'm a pretty laid back person. Kind of a push-over, really. But I like to think that I'm also open-minded. When I meet someone of another culture or religion, I take in who they are. Whether I share their beliefs or not, I try to be understanding.

I've had a number of friends from different backgrounds than myself. Some harsher, some sweeter, some way more bizarre. But if they can accept me, who am I not to accept them?

Because these friends couldn't all possibly be Lutheran (such as me), I've found myself in numerous churches listening to lengthy sermons. The first I can recall is visiting a Catholic church with a close childhood friend and her parents. It was a large building, very dark. There was a lot of kneeling and crossing involved. Once when we went, the priest ordered me (ME!) to recite something from a page we were looking at in a book. Then he yelled at me to speak louder, then LOUDER. I was mortified. I think I was only 10 years old or so.

That wasn't my only Catholic experience, but it left it's mark. I've also heard sermons from the points-of-view of Baptists, Methodists, Apostolics, and so on. I attended a Baptist church for quite a while in college, mostly because they were so, so friendly and happy and welcoming. A lot of churches are condemning and too solemn. I liked the atmosphere at that Baptist church. About 2 years ago, some deviant set fire to the building, and the small congregation didn't have the funds to rebuild. It was a shame.

In high school, one of my very best friends was a Jehovah's Witness. Yes, I know, I can almost hear you booing from here. She was awesome. Very funny, nice girl, a bit too competitive with me, though. But if it wasn't for her, I'd never have gone to gym class. She was into sports, and she sometimes (okay, a lot) thought she'd naturally be better than me at stuff, which would anger me into participating in (ugh) sporty activities.

But Tab (that was her nickname) was very serious about her religion, too. She invited me to some of her meetings, and I went to a couple of them. I even went with her to some kind of Witness convention in Stillwater, MN. It was fun. I mean, I wasn't going for conversion. I mainly wanted to stay away from my own house, but that's a different story.

One day after school, two really hot boys knocked on my door. Since they were wearing nice suits, I assumed they were church boys. I pre-empted their speech. "Listen," I said, "My best friend at school is Jehovah's Witness. I've gone to some of the meetings. If I have any questions about it, I can just talk to her." The hot boys looked at each other. Then one goes, "Um, we're not Jehovah's Witness." I got annoyed because I felt foolish and snapped, "Well, then what are you?" They were Mormon. And they gave me their Bible. I think I still have it somewhere.

I've even gone to Seventh Day Adventist meetings. Those were pretty fun, actually. There was a Russian pastor who was so sweet and earnest. And there was a 30-year-old, somewhat mentally challenged, comic-book loving guy who kept hitting on my friend and wanted her to start a Christian singles club. That may have been the best part.

And not all of my friends have been Christian. I've known Muslims, Buddhists, so ons and so forths. I was actually told by a Muslim that I'm going to Hell. (Damn you, Usman!) And quite a few without any religious affiliation, some agnostics, some atheists.

Through it all, I've listened to their beliefs. Sometimes wanting to disagree, but that's not very tolerant, is it? Not that I've always been tolerant. Especially during my "New Christian" phase. That's pretty embarrassing, when I think back on it. I was very one-minded then. But I've loved discussing beliefs with people, loved the agreements and even the fierce discussions.

I haven't felt like discussing religion in a very long time. I'm kind of at an unknown stage. I've never been here before, and it's scary and lonely and depressing. Have you ever been so very sure about something, had the utmost conviction in it, and then one day, you're just not sure? Imagine yourself out on a cliff. You started out so convinced that it was strong enough to hold you, you didn't pay any attention to any other kinds of danger signals. So you make it out to the furthest point, and the ground just doesn't seem stable. Do you make your stand, confident in your earlier convictions? Or turn back? That's me. I'm standing there, unsure of my footing and wondering how I got there.

I didn't set out to be depressing. I just wanted to include more memories of friends. But I guess that's what happens. Open one door and find another...if you're in a place with a lot of doors... Er...

My days as a Mennonite...

I ate green beans last night. And it made me realize that I can't remember the last time I had vegetables. Besides potatoes. It's not that I don't like any veggies, it's just that I don't exactly have a well-balanced diet (to say the least). I normally don't sit down to eat with my grandparents, and if I cook for myself, it's just something quick.

I like green beans, I really do. When they're hot and crisp. Last night's GeeBees were reheated and soggy. Yuck. But then it got me to thinking about my life with the Mennonites. Oh, yes.

When I was a wee lass of probably 4 or so, my mother would leave my brother and I with a Mennonite family while she went to work. And every day when she'd come to pick me up, my hair would be in tight braids and I'd be wearing a dress over my jeans.

Since I was so young, I only have random memories of my time there. And a memory from my mom. She said that one day we went over to my grandparents' house, and as I was walking up to the house, I bent down and picked a plant. "Grandma," I said, "You've got chives." Then I ate it. My mom still is amazed. Today, I couldn't tell a chive from any other kind of plant. This is what I recall from my Mennonite days:

*We were not allowed to watch T.V., but I know the lady of the house watched her soap operas when we were supposed to be napping.

*Speaking of napping, one time I got up from my nap, sneaked downstairs, and went into their pantry. I snagged a mini jar of mustard and devoured it. I can't imagine why. But the thought of eating mustard makes me break out into a cold sweat now.

*I helped the mother and her children shell peas and other Mennonite-y things.

*My cousin Jenny was going to be dropped off for one day, and she tried to jump out of the car while it was still moving. She cut up her face, so her mom took her to Dairy Queen and she came back eating a Dilly Bar. I was jealous. Still am. A Dilly Bar sounds mighty fine right about now.

*The oldest son brought me and one of his sisters into the back of a covered wagon. He taught us how to smoke straw. Yeah. Straw. And I was what, 4?

Oh, those crazy Mennonite times. I'd look pretty ridiculous in braids these days.